I'll be home for Christmas
by nanniships
Summary: A little tasty holiday Andith one shot goodie in the sprit of the season. Set in my Office AU, cause these guys are just too much fun.


**A/N: Yes, I KNOW I've got _Not for Sale _hanging out there, but in the spirit of the season, I offer this little Andith Christmas goodie. Office AU, just cause I can't let go of them. Let me know what you think. Happy Holidays!**

I'll be home for Christmas

Dr. Anthony Strallen looked up in surprise as Dr. Edith Crawley burst through the door to his office without knocking and shut it firmly behind her.

"Not that I'm not thrilled as always to see you," he said mildly, "but don't you usually knock?"

"I'll come straight to the point, Anthony," she said as she paced agitatedly next to his desk. "I need you to acquire a near life threatening illness that requires my presence to nurse you through it over the holidays."

"I love it when you come straight to the point," he replied, trying to look serious and failing miserably.

"Please, Anthony," she begged, sitting in his lap and laying her head on his chest. "I really need you to be at death's door."

Anthony stroked her back soothingly and closed his eyes as he laid his cheek on the top of her head.

"I know that spending extended periods of time with your family is not high on your list of favorite things to do…"

"It's somewhere south of a home lobotomy, yes," she confirmed.

"And I know I haven't said anything about spending the holidays together - just the two of us. But darling, I simply assumed you'd be spending Christmas with your family because you've mentioned it frequently. So…"

"I suppose squeezing the dish soap bottle hard enough to rupture it the last time I brought it up was too subtle an indication of my true feelings on the matter," she mused, stroking his chest lightly.

"No, the emotional message was clear. I simply misunderstood it to be a response to my forgetting to wash the small plates we'd had our pudding on the night before, leaving the tiramisu to set up like cement. I _did_ take the lesson to heart."

Edith tipped her head to smile at him. Anthony looked far more amused than concerned.

"Would you rather spend Christmas with me?" he asked. "It would make a wonderful change from my usual holiday routine."

"I'd wear a bowler hat and clean chimneys with you, if that's how you spend your Christmas. And you know how I feel about bowler hats," she replied, hugging him.

"Nothing quite so Dickensian as all that," he said, lips twitching up into a crooked little smile. "I usually watch take a walk when there's no one on the streets, eat take away I'd gotten the night before, watch bad television, get drunk and leave semi abusive messages on my sister's answering service."

"Sounds like heaven," Edith said seriously. "What would we do if I was there?"

"Much the same, I suppose. Just with fewer clothes. Oh, and I might actually decorate a little, wrap some gifts, drop a pound in the charity bucket, cook a goose, and worship every inch of you…"

Edith began to giggle as Anthony punctuate his plans by nibbling gently down her neck and shifting her gently until she straddled him.

"Stop distracting me," she said pushing against his chest halfheartedly as his hands wandered down to her hips. "It sounds perfectly lovely, and I can't think of a better way to spend our first Christmas together, but—" She was interrupted as Anthony's lips traveled up to hers.

"But I still need you to be about to shuffle off this mortal coil, or I simply won't have a way out of my family's Christmas," she said breathlessly when their lips parted.

Anthony's shoulders slumped and his eyebrows cocked in mildly amused exasperation.

"Why must I be so afflicted, Edith? Can't you just tell your family that you have other plans for Christmas this year?"

"You _have_ met my family, haven't you?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, yes. Most of them. Mercifully briefly."

"And from this brief exposure, did any of them seem to be people one _tells_ things to?"

"Perhaps not…"

"I can tell you exactly what will happen, Anthony," Edith began, frustration evident in her tone and the light punches she landed on his shoulders. "I will phone Mama to tell her, and she will spend twenty minutes taking over me, around me, and through me. I won't get a word in edgewise, and by the time she's done, I will be doing exactly what they want and be convinced it was my idea."

"We could always text them from Antigua," Anthony suggested. Edith scrunched up her face thoughtfully in a way that made Anthony shiver and begin stringing together a plan to simply toss her onto the top of his desk and hope no students dropped by to complain about their latest essays.

"We could," she agreed. "I would pay for it for months, but that's a possibility…" As she mused, Anthony began calculating the distance between his chair and the surface of the desk. He forgot to carry the six when she suddenly shook her head and looked decisive.

"This is ridiculous," she said firmly. "They're my family and I love them and I _will not_ let them drive me out of the country to avoid spending time with them." She reached out her hand to caress his face. "No mater how much the notion of you and I on a beach in the lesser Antilles appeals to me."

Anthony looked hopefully from her to the desk, but Edith's mind was on other things and her eyes were steely and determined. He sighed and kissed her forehead.

"So…what is it I'm supposed to have contracted and when should I go into quarantine?" he asked resignedly.

Edith looked him in surprise. "What? What are you…oh. Don't worry. I've changed my mind about that."

"You're going to spend Christmas with your family after all?" he asked. Hid face fell.

"Not on your life," Edith replied, eyes twinkling happily. "I'm going to call Mama right now and tell her I've other plans, exactly what those other plans are, minus certain personal details…" Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. "And that's all there is to it."

With that, she removed herself from his lap, kissed him thoroughly, and marched out of the office. Anthony gazed at her appreciatively as she left. Then he sighed and looked at his desk.

"If I were better at sums," he muttered to himself, "that could have ended much differently."

Taking a piece of paper, Anthony began writing down a to-do list for the holidays, humming "Here We Come A Wasiling" under his breath. After ten minutes, he had gone through three sheets, as his plans became more elaborate and it dawned on him that he didn't have a single ornament or decoration.

Edith returned quietly, closing the door with an unreadable expression on her face. She glanced down at his list and her lips twitched with amusement. Gently, she took the pen from his hand, turned his chair away from the desk, and sat down on his lap again.

"As you can see, I've got a lot to do…" Anthony began. Edith reached up and laid a finger on his lips.

"I talked to Mama," she said solemnly. "And I told her I had other plans for Christmas."

"So…it's all square then?"

"Well…."

"Well…what?"

"I stuck to my guns, and I told her I wasn't going to drive out to that corner of Yorkshire to spend a week being condescended to about my career, my life, and my wardrobe choices. I said that Mary would just have to find a new sparring partner this year and whatever poor, unsuspecting man they had dragooned out to Downton to set me up with was going to be out of luck. And I wrapped it up by declaring that I had no intention of being surrounded by happy family and friends and feeling like I was all alone this year, or any other year from now on…"

"Well done, you!" Anthony crowed.

"Yes. But then Mama started talking…"

"Oh dear."

"Too bloody right. I _did_ hold out for concessions this year…" she said in as upbeat a tone as she could manage.

"Please tell me the anonymous, unsuspecting man won't be there."

"Well…at least I know who he is."

Anthony groaned and buried his head in Edith's neck. She stroked his hair.

"I was starting to look forward to all this," he muttered, voice muffled in her hair.

"We still have something to look forward to…sort of," she said. "You're coming with me. I'm almost positive it was my idea."

Anthony slowly raised his head to look disbelievingly into her apologetic eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Anthony. You know I'd much rather watch bad television and get drunk on your sofa… but I'll be home for Christmas." She looked pleadingly at him. "Will you come?"

"Is Antigua really not a possibility? I could get the tickets by tonight."

"Right out, I'm afraid," she said, shaking her head. Taking a deep breath, she kissed his forehead and slipped off of his lap. "I really am sorry, Anthony. It's asking too much, and I don't blame you for—"

"Shall we take my car, or the train," he interrupted, wrapping his arms around her and pulling back to him. "I'm thinking the car, you know, in case we need to make a quick get away."

"Do you mean it?" she asked breathlessly.

"It might be fun," he said hesitantly.

"It won't be in the least fun," she replied, "but if you're there, then I'll have someone I love to be miserable with, and that will be wonderful!"

"Since you make it so appealing, then I must accept the invitation," he said with a laugh.

"Definitely the car, then." Edith began kissing him happily, and he responded in kind. After a few minutes, he was able to bury that initial feeling of panic and doom deep under Edith's joy.

"I've got a few things yet to do before we leave on Friday," she said as she bounced up, ignoring his clutching fingers. "Are you busy tonight?"

"Nothing on that I know of. I thought I'd spend it cruising for female companionship."

"We'll do Antigua another year, Anthony," she said with a smile. "I'll call you after my tutorials; maybe we can have a late supper." Blowing a kiss at him, she breezed out of his office, leaving him with a sappy smile and slightly uncomfortable trousers.

He sighed and wrinkled his brow as he contemplated what he had let himself in for. Suddenly, his head shot up and he stared wide eyed at the door.

"Wait a moment," he said to his empty office. "Did she say she loves me?"

Anyone who peeked in Dr. Strallan's office that afternoon would have seen a man with an uncontrollable grin on his face, scribbling and crossing out words frantically under the heading "Possible Gift Ideas" until only one word remained:

_Ring_


End file.
